


Fear and Delight

by darter_blue



Category: Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bottom Kirk Langstrom, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Kryptonite, Kryptonite as consensual bondage, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Smut, Superman/Batman - Freeform, Top Hernan Guerra, Topping from the Bottom, smutty af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Hernan returns from a bad mission with a heavy weight on his shoulders. And when Kirk expresses concern (Kirk has a habit of watching Hernan too closely, knowing him too well) Hernan realises there might be a way Kirk can help relieve the burden.With the help of kryptonian level restraints and Kirk's thirst for blood, Batman and Superman find a way to navigate through their unspoken feelings and land on an unexpectedly healing use of deliciously (unfamiliar) painful control.
Relationships: Hernan Guerra/Kirk Langstrom
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	Fear and Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SDSlanderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson/gifts).



> Thank you to the amazingly talented [SDSlanderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson) whose very gorgeous art here on [twitter](https://twitter.com/DarkSlanderson/status/1280351818103631872?s=20) or here on [Tumblr](https://sdeeys.tumblr.com/post/622957651576471552/a-very-safe-for-work-hernan-and-kirk-for) was the inspiration for this fic.
> 
> Thanks again to the endlessly patient and gracious [susiecarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter) for being a beta but also for championing and supporting so many of us through this bang.
> 
> Thank you so much to the mods for making this bang such a wonderful and inclusive experience. It has been an absolute joy.
> 
> Mind the tags, this is about 5k of explicit sexual content - but it has its own beauty. I'm really proud of this one.

Hernan returns to the Hall of Justice with a bone-deep weariness that superpowered aliens should not, by his own standards, be allowed to entertain.

World order falls to him, is his birthright - or curse, if today is anything to judge by. It's true that Hernan believes the means justified by a favourable end; but ending an innocent life, a life that would have killed indiscriminately, rampantly, with enough time - due solely to its creator’s bid for power - is a terrible means to undertake. 

He throws the coat of his uniform to the ground, needing to be free of the constraint, and his little remaining energy dissipates as he gets further into the building. Hernan has no idea what to do with himself now, but he wants to do _something_. To drink, to drown; to fall into something toxic, bury himself in it. He doesn’t have to think long on it, because he’s not alone in the Hall tonight. Kirk is here. Kirk, whose darkness is so comforting to Hernan that he is calmed just by the sound of his unique (fast, so fast) heartbeat. 

Kirk is at his array of computers, looking through footage Hernan doesn't care to bother himself with, doesn’t have the headspace for. Not that it matters, because somehow Kirk is aware of Hernan’s internal distress, can read Hernan like a book, and is shutting down his terminals and turning away from his work. 

‘Hernan, what happened?’

‘Nothing. Nothing I want to talk about,’ Hernan dismisses any invitation to open up. He doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Kirk’s expression is hard to read, even without his bat cowl and red lenses, but Hernan is Superman; he can hear the subtle differences in Kirk’s breathing, can smell the slight increase in sweat, can see the way the tiny, fine hairs on his skin are standing straight. If Kirk were anyone else, Hernan would think him afraid. But this is Kirk, _Batman_ , and it just doesn’t make sense that he would be.

Unless Hernan is so not himself, so frustrated at the horror imparted upon him to be witness to, to control, that he is frightening even to his truest friend. 

He doesn’t push though. He _doesn’t_ want to talk about what happened today, so he’ll let it go. But he does try and rein it in, whatever it is that might be upsetting Kirk. He clasps Kirk’s shoulder good-naturedly and squeezes just enough to show affection without anger, smiling as he does so, as small and stilted as it might come across. And the result is not what he expected.

Kirk isn’t soothed by it. If anything his distress seems to intensify. The confusion at the reaction must show on his face, because Kirk is quick to placate.

‘I’m sorry, I’m… hungry, is all. I wish…’ The thought trails off and Kirk is left watching Hernan, waiting for his reply. When none is forthcoming, Kirk presses his intent. 'I wish I could help you somehow.' 

It's an old argument, Kirk feeling like he owes Hernan more than he can give. Hernan may have saved Kirk's life once (a hundred times), may have set him on a more palatable path to redemption, but Kirk is a lifeline for Hernan in return, if only in the way he can ground him, humour him, _accept_ him.

Kirk's friendship means everything to Hernan. Too much, perhaps, if Hernan allows himself to question it (he doesn't. He chooses to ignore, lest anything be changed for the worse). 

Kirk does look hungry, though, to Hernan’s eye. Paler than usual, a little gaunt in the cheeks (the fact that his cheekbones are accentuated by it, that it sharpens his angles in a way that is somehow more beautiful than can be ignored, is a fact Hernan buries away). 

‘If you’re hungry, you should eat, Flaquito,’ Hernan says, stepping even closer into Kirk’s space, flirting with the danger of unasked questions.

‘I will. I’ve been busy, I was trying to keep an eye on you-’

‘You don’t need to keep an eye on me. You need to be eating, you need to keep on top of your hunger,’ Hernan says, softly so as not to offend but with an authority that the tightening around Kirk’s mouth suggests he does not appreciate. 

‘Somebody had to be here to monitor the systems, Hernan. Watching you was just a bonus.’

‘Oh, really?’ Hernan says, interested. Enough, perhaps, to push.

Kirk scowls, but doesn’t take the bait. ‘It would have been more so, if I could have actually found you. You disappeared on me.’

‘What I had to do, I had to do on my own. Let it go, Kirk.’ 

Kirk, if possible, scowls even more deeply. But he does leave it. 

‘It’s late now,’ Hernan says, looking out the tower’s floor-to-ceiling glass window at the burgeoning sunrise. ‘Too late for feeding.’

‘I’ll manage.’ Kirk lifts his chin and stares Hernan down. But Hernan only smiles.

‘I can help.’ He’s baiting Kirk even further now, because he knows how strong his blood is, knows how much Kirk craves it. Maybe he’s pushing because he needs some kind of release right now. Needs something to put his mind somewhere other than the loop of _awful, horrible, monster_ that it’s currently working on.

(Maybe that's just an excuse.)

To make his intentions clear, Hernan steps again even further into Kirk’s space, relishing the sound of Kirk’s heart beating even faster, all the same physical reactions as earlier but heightened. And maybe it’s not fear that Kirk is feeling. Maybe the increased breathing, the sweat, the skin-prickling anticipation - maybe it’s all a product of Kirk’s craving. Of _attraction_. 

Hernan’s throat isn’t as exposed as he’d like, the neck of his uniform high even without the cloak - not that Kirk’s sharp fangs could penetrate Hernan’s skin even if he could reach it. But he has the scent of something now, and he won’t let go until he’s pushed Kirk to the edge. And everything in the way Kirk is reacting tells Hernan that it’s working.

Kirk is leaning into Hernan like it’s unconscious, closing in on the pulse point that Hernan knows Kirk can smell, so close that Hernan can feel Kirk’s breath on his skin.

‘Hernan…’ Kirk’s voice is strained, a whisper. ‘Don’t play with me.’

‘This is no game, _mi alma_ ,’ Hernan says, low and sure. ‘But we can play, if that’s what you want.’

‘You know I can’t even break your skin, Hernan, this is just cruel.’ Kirk pulls himself back enough to look Hernan in the eye as he says it. 

Hernan knows that, he does, but he knows something else, something Kirk knows too, but hasn’t asked for, and maybe he doesn’t know that Hernan wants him to. He knows that they have kryptonite and that with it (anywhere close to Hernan’s body) he will be just as vulnerable to Kirk’s fangs as any human. Just as vulnerable to anything Kirk wants to inflict upon him, and though the thought should be terrifying, it has something of the opposite effect. And Kirk, with senses of his own, can pick up on exactly how Hernan feels about it.

Kirk has been holding it for him, keeping it safe from their enemies (their many, many enemies), and the chain that was designed to hold Hernan prisoner could be used now to set him free.

‘It’s dangerous, Hernan.’ And they’re still close enough that their chests are almost touching; the words barely have to be exhaled.

Hernan gives Kirk a look, and words aren’t even necessary. Because Kirk is aware that Hernan is _well_ aware that Kirk has modified that chain to make it safe. Has modified it, per Hernan’s request, so that should the need to subdue a Kryptonian arise they have the equipment to do so. And should that Kryptonian be Hernan, it will be as comfortable and painless as possible. 

‘It _could_ be dangerous. We haven’t done any testing,’ Kirk says. Hernan stops him from backing away any further with a hand to Kirk’s elbow, and Kirk's breath catches but he doesn't let it deter him. ‘Hernan, I don’t want to hurt you.’ 

Hernan adds a small amount of pressure to his grip on Kirk’s elbow, and the flash of Kirk’s red eyes says otherwise. Kirk is desperate to hurt Hernan. And maybe Hernan wants to be hurt.

Kirk closes his eyes, leans into the exposed flesh at the neck of Hernan’s uniform, presses his nose to the skin. He takes a breath and holds it, lets it out slowly, the slight warmth of it brushing against Hernan’s nerves and sending a wave of sensation through him. 

Kirk lifts his mouth to Hernan’s ear and whispers, ‘Wait here.’ And though he has nothing like Hernan’s superspeed, he’s back within moments, with a box, a white rectangular box that Kirk needs to use his fingerprint to open. Hernan is still standing in the middle of the Hall of Justice, and Kirk is advancing on him. As soon as the lid pops open, Hernan feels it. Struggles to remain standing. The green glow is enough to give it away. ‘Is this what you want, Hernan?’

Hernan refuses to flinch as Kirk reaches into the box and removes the delicate-looking chain. It doesn’t look like shackles anymore; it looks decorative, almost. Like a necklace, only with enough links to give someone purchase to hold it, to pull on it, to use it as a rein. 

‘I need you to tell me now, Hernan. I need you to tell me explicitly, now that you can feel how vulnerable you will be once it touches your skin.' Kirk watches Hernan's eyes for his response. 'Do you want this?’

Hernan looks at Kirk and gives in to the overwhelming gravity pulling him down. He sinks to his knees and lifts his chin, looks to the man he trusts with more than his life, with his soul. ‘I do.’

‘What do you want?’ Kirk steps one foot closer, but holds the chain back. ‘Do you want me to put this on you?’ He lifts it, inspects it. ‘Do you want to feel controlled?’

Hernan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to be under Kirk’s control; he just wants to let go of his own. So that’s what he tells him. ‘I want to let go.’

'Will you let me give you what I think you need?'

'Si,' Hernan answers, as sure of Kirk as he is sure of himself. 'I trust you.' 

Kirk stares into Hernan’s eyes, the red of his iris so bright, so deep, so familiar, that Hernan feels comfort even as the kryptonite draws away his strength. Kirk must find something there, whatever he was looking for, because he lifts his own chin, squares his shoulders and takes the last step to Hernan, draping the chain over his shoulders so that it lays around his neck. It loops together and joins where the stone is set into the metal; there is something behind it, something that stops the rock from touching Hernan directly, though his uniform is still between the necklace and his skin, and the chain runs off the join, like a leash. Hernan is effectively collared. It feels less frightening and more freeing than he could have ever imagined. 

‘Hernan, if at any time I think you are losing consciousness, short of breath, or stressed, I will remove this straight away and get it back into the box.’

Hernan nods his understanding.

‘If at any time you ask me to stop, I will.’

‘I won’t.’

Kirk shakes his head with a fond frustration. ‘If you _do_ , I will stop and remove the chain.’

‘I understand, Kirk.’ He does understand. He understands this is about more than just his blood. And he is giving Kirk permission for so much more. 

‘If at any time you can’t speak and you need me to stop, just tap me three times.’ Kirk demonstrates by tapping sharply on Hernan’s shoulder three times. ‘And I’ll remove the chain.’

Hernan’s vision is starting to tinge green at the edges; he’s sweating, his pulse is racing, and the idea that Kirk now has enough power over him to even give this speech has his blood singing. He nods, maybe a little erratically, because he's anxious to get started now that he can feel himself sinking into the effects of the kryptonite.

Kirk tugs gently on the lead of the chain and Hernan slowly rises to his feet, following Kirk through the hall and to his rooms, where he shuts the door behind them and draws Hernan into the bedroom, turning them around and pushing Hernan onto the bed.

The bed is wide, the sheets dark and soft, but Hernan can't sense anything much beyond that. The green tinge in his vision is making it hard to focus on anything other than Kirk, front and centre of his sight line. And the distant hum of dampening, the dulling of his senses, bringing them down to a more human level, is making it hard for him to concentrate on anything. 

He can see Kirk's eyes, still shining red and intense; he can feel Kirk's fingertips at his collar, can feel that Kirk is using those thin elegant fingers to unfasten Hernan's uniform, can feel them against his skin now. And he loves this feeling, this feeling that he's being looked after, that someone else is making his decisions for him. Someone who knows exactly what Hernan wants, and is going to give it to him. But at the same time, he wants some level of awareness - tries to focus, tries to push some of that green to the edges. And he finds that he can, with enough willpower. He can. It takes some effort, but it's enough to set his mind on Kirk and keep that at the forefront. His body needs time to adjust to the change in its properties, but as Kirk starts to peel his uniform apart, starts to slide the arms of it down Hernan's shoulders, he has found an equilibrium, looks up into Kirk's eyes and sees recognition there.

'Back with me, are you, Hernan?' Kirk asks with more smirk than smile. 

Hernan nods. He is; he feels more present now, and he licks his lips at how close Kirk is, at the feel of those fingers on his bare skin. The kryptonite still feels diminished somehow - encased in something, maybe - to keep Hernan safe enough from it, leaching just enough of its radioactivity to keep him vulnerable but not in pain. 

Kirk pushes Hernan back onto the bed gently and Hernan just goes, allows himself to be pushed. He can tell that he would have enough strength to resist if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Not resisting is the point of all this. It's what he wants so badly. A freefall.

Kirk steps away and comes back with something: ropes, it seems, black and thick. He unravels them in his hands, watching Hernan as he does so. He climbs onto Hernan, a knee to either side of Hernan’s waist, and takes Hernan by the wrists, one in each hand, and draws them up over Hernan's head, holding Hernan’s hands together and pinning them down. Carefully, Kirk starts to wrap the rope around Hernan's lower forearms (it's soft, much softer than it looks), looping it around and back over itself until Hernan feels almost handcuffed. Even with some pull, the knot holds, though the rope doesn't tighten under force.

'What am I going to do with you, hmm? Now that I have you here, trussed up like this. At my mercy...' Kirk asks playfully. 

'What do _you_ want?' Hernan asks softly. As much as he thinks he knows Kirk, he isn't sure of the motivations behind this for his friend (are they friends still? Can they be friends after this? Is that even what Hernan wants?). 

'I want to taste you,' Kirk says just as softly, easing himself down Hernan’s body, getting his hands into the waist of the Superman uniform and peeling it down his legs. Kirk tosses the uniform to the corner of the room and stands before Hernan, tracing the tips of his fingers up along the skin of Hernan's thighs. He stalks back onto the bed to straddle Hernan’s hips and leans down close enough to nuzzle his nose into the skin of Hernan's throat. Hernan can feel the sharp fangs at his artery and this time he knows Kirk can use them to break right through. 'I'm just going to take a little, just enough to taste,' he says, whispering against the flesh of Hernan's exposed throat.

And without any more warning than that, Kirk is sinking his fangs into Hernan, slowly. It must be pain that he's feeling, but it's foreign; he doesn't know it, doesn't have anything to judge it against. It’s so _much_ . The teeth ripping into him, breaking through that which is never broken. Hernan can feel Kirk's tongue against his skin, and it's hot and wet, and somehow it feels like fire dragging along his nerve endings. It sends that fire right into the core of him, and it's so _good._ And then Kirk’s lips close over Hernan’s throat and he starts to suck. Hernan can feel the blood rushing into Kirk's mouth, can feel his tongue catching it, drawing it further into his mouth so he can drink it down. He's too out of it to attribute any better description to any of it than just 'fuck, yes,' and ‘don't stop,' neither of which he says out loud. Because he is still _Superman_ , for all that’s happening right now. All that’s happening, with Hernan's express permission and at Hernan's request. Neither he nor Kirk are in any doubt about who is really in charge here. 

In almost no time at all, Kirk's teeth retract. His tongue rests against Hernan's skin a second longer, gathering the last drops of blood, not letting it spill. 

'Oh, god, Hernan,' Kirk says - slurs, even, as if he's drunk on Hernan's blood. 'You taste so… you taste like... perfect.’ Kirk is pressing himself into Hernan, arching his back and rocking into him. ‘I knew it, I knew you would.'

'What now, Kirk?' Hernan asks, dizzy and loose, but a part of him still wanting to know where they go from here. 

'Now, I'm going to take care of you, Hernan.' Kirk's smile is predatory. 'I'm going to do all the work, don’t worry. I want you to lie back and let me do all the things I've been waiting to do to you.'

Hernan can feel his eyebrow rise at that. It's something they never talk about, the way Kirk's glance lingers, the way he reads Hernan, the attention he pays him while out on missions. And the idea that Kirk has been imagining something like this, wanting this, is so much. Hernan is hard at the thought. Hard and getting harder. Especially once Kirk climbs off, steps back and pulls the shirt of his own uniform up over his head, revealing a tightly muscled chest and the lean, pale, marble-like strength of his shoulders. 

Kirk displays a darkly dangerous grace, even at his worst. Here, in control as he is, removing his clothes with careful purpose, eyes shining, cheeks rouged from the blood, the residual warmth of Hernan running in his veins, he’s truly beautiful. Hernan can’t look away. He can feel himself staring, only it's different now, because he’s allowed to. He can stare all he wants, can fill himself with Kirk, with no worse consequences than those they’ve already implicitly accepted by doing this in the first place.

Hernan’s going to make the most of it.

And Kirk is smiling again at the hunger he must be reading in Hernan's gaze. He pushes the rest of his uniform down over his hips, down his thighs. Slips his legs free and unfolds back up into a standing position. He's left in just tight black boxer briefs, which are tenting obscenely. Kirk doesn't take his eyes off Hernan as he slides the material of his underwear down over the prominent jut of his hip bones, down over the thatch of dark hair - down over the erection that springs free and stands almost straight against his stomach. 

He stalks over to Hernan and gets his hands under the waistband of Hernan's briefs, runs his index finger along the inside of the elastic, ghosts his touch over Hernan’s pubic bone. 

He pulls the underwear down and off, Hernan's erection bobbing back against his clenched abdominals, huge and painfully hard (all this pain is so new to him, but it’s already intoxicating). Kirk tosses the material away with the rest of Hernan's clothes and nuzzles his face into Hernan's groin. Hernan bites his lip against the pleasure of it as Kirk runs his tongue up into Hernan's upper thigh. Kirk gently pushes Hernan's legs apart and positions himself between them. He looks right at Hernan and says, 'I want you to keep your hands where they are. _I'm_ touching _you_ , Hernan. I'll take care of you.'

And then Kirk sinks his fangs into the thick flesh of Hernan's upper thigh. 

Hernan can't help the cry this time. Kirk doesn't hold back any of his strength - doesn't shield Hernan from the pain, from the bruising force of his powerful jaw clamping down. And, _dios mio_ , it's awful but it's wonderful. He didn't know anything could feel like this.

Kirk treats Hernan to the same kiss-like bite as before, only now it’s harder, more forceful. He closes his lips around the bite on Hernan's thigh and sinks further into the flesh. He runs his tongue over the blood and sucks, drinks. His hands hold Hernan's thighs down as Hernan struggles against him. Not because he wants him to stop, but the sensation - it's so much, it's so overwhelming, he's struggling not against Kirk but against the electricity in his veins. Hernan lifts his hands from where they are tied over his head, but Kirk is fast, so fast, and his body twists, one hand snaking up to push Hernan’s back down. And god, just the fact that he can, the fact that Hernan is struggling, really struggling against him and Kirk is still holding him down, one hand on Hernan’s - against Hernan's chest now, the other hand on Hernan’s thigh, lips still fastened over his femoral artery, fangs sunk deep through the surface of his skin. 

It's... it's... Hernan doesn't have anything to compare it to. He's never felt like this before. 

But suddenly Kirk has pulled his teeth back, is licking the sweat and blood from Hernan's skin, tracing his tongue up into the crease of Hernan's groin, up past his dick and not stopping. Up along his abs, his chest, taking Hernan's hands with him, lifting them back over Hernan’s head as he mouths at Hernan's throat, runs his teeth across his jaw, nips gently at it. 

'Are you okay, Hernan?' Kirk asks quietly, whispering the words into the shell of Hernan's ear.

Hernan can't speak, but he uses all the faculties he has left to nod his head. 

'Do you want me to keep going?'

Hernan nods harder. God, please, he doesn't want Kirk to stop. He wants to know how much better it will feel when Kirk puts that mouth on Hernan's dick. When he finally touches Hernan where Hernan's begging to be touched. 

And if Hernan thought he could get out of this without ever having to show a loss of control, he was kidding himself. 

He would give Kirk _anything_ to keep going right now. 

'I'm going to open myself up while I suck you down, Hernan. Can you be still for me?' Kirk asks him, whispering still, sinking his teeth into the lobe of Hernan's ear.

'Yes, yes,' Hernan groans, the words barely spoken aloud.

'You're to keep your arms just like that. You can do that, can't you, _Superman_?' And Kirk rolls his hips down on the last word, emphasising the irony of it right now. But the friction of their cocks against each other, both so hard, is enough to make Hernan throw his head back, expose his throat again to more bites, and Kirk laughs softly as he trails his fangs down, with just enough pressure to score the surface, and then bites down hard on Hernan's nipple. 

'Fuck!' Hernan cries out. God, he really feels as if he's lost himself. He barely remembers why they're doing this, except that it’s so fucking good, he can't remember why they haven't been doing it for _years_. 

Kirk keeps moving, though - doesn't linger too long at Hernan's chest, sliding back down to settle between his legs and spread Hernan's thighs apart. He lies down on the mattress and holds his hands on Hernan's thighs as he sinks his face into Hernan's groin, licking a stripe up the sensitive skin between Hernan’s ass and balls, nipping teasingly at them and then passing them to put his mouth over the head of Hernan's cock.

Hernan is panting, he can hear it, and his skin is one giant live wire, oversensitive now and reactive to every single touch. He can feel Kirk's fingers digging into his thighs even as he can feel Kirk's tongue dig into the slit, circle around the head, run further down as Kirk sinks deeper and deeper onto him. 

Hernan's sure he is far too big for Kirk to fit all of him in his mouth, but Kirk is deftly proving Hernan wrong. 

And suddenly Kirk has lifted one hand to reach down between his own legs. To open himself up, Hernan remembers, just as he'd said he would. Hernan doesn't know how or when Kirk got what he needed to even do that, but Hernan is also having trouble remembering what his own name is right now, so it's not like it's impossible that he's just totally unaware of what Kirk’s been doing in the background. 

It's minutes, maybe even longer, as the tight wet heat of Kirk's mouth sucks Hernan down, slides up and down his cock, teeth grazing here and there, tongue laving, moisture pooling, all of it driving Hernan crazy enough to arch his back up off the bed, to work harder and harder to keep his hands over his head, before Kirk suddenly pulls off and glides his body back up Hernan's to smile down at him. 

'I'm ready, Hernan. Are you ready?'

And Hernan doesn't even know what he's supposed to be ready for, but he's nodding, fast and furious, because whatever it is, he's ready.

Kirk's smile brightens, becomes something frighteningly beautiful, as he lifts himself up, steadies himself, and then slowly, _slowly_ , sinks himself down onto Hernan's rock-hard, slicked-up cock. 

‘Fuuuuuuuck…’ Hernan breathes the word like a prayer. It feels like everything, everything he never knew he could feel, all at once. It’s tight and hot and _right_ , it feels _right_ , it’s so fucking good. 

'God, yes.' Kirk has thrown his head back, arched his back; his hips are rolling into Hernan, the muscles in Kirk's thighs flexed to capacity as he uses them to ride Hernan, gripping him like a lifeline. He rests the palms of his hands on Hernan's chest and pushes down, using Hernan as leverage to speed up, to take Hernan deeper. He looks back down at Hernan then, and his eyes flash so red, so bright, that Hernan is sure there are flames behind them.

And it's the expression on Kirk's face, the way he's looking down at Hernan like he's desperate for him, like he fucking _loves_ this - it's that expression, the knowledge of Kirk's pleasure, that's driving Hernan to the brink. And even as bound as he is, by instruction as much as force, by the desire to do what Kirk has asked of him (to be still, to _not touch_ ), he is unconsciously thrusting up to meet Kirk's ass as Kirk fucks himself down on Hernan. 

Hernan's thrusts start to lose rhythm as the sensations overwhelm him. The pull of the ropes above his wrists, the binding heat of Kirk's slick hole around Hernan's cock, the force of Kirk's hands pressing into Hernan's chest, it's all dialled up so high, at the same time as the kryptonite dulls every other sense from the room and leaves him feeling the sweet pain, the ache of bruising, from all of Kirk's pressure. 

And Kirk is still looking down at him with an affection Hernan is stunned by. Maybe he sees that affection mirrored in Hernan's eyes, maybe he is so lost in his own pleasure that he's given up on caution, maybe he just wants it enough, but Kirk is suddenly leaning down to Hernan, letting his weight fall into Hernan, sliding his palms up Hernan's arms to clasp their hands together.

And with his teeth at Hernan's jawline, his nose running along Hernan's cheekbone, Kirk inches closer, lifts his lips and presses them to Hernan's. Soft and gentle and directly contrasting the rough force of his thighs and hips, Kirk kisses Hernan. 

It's like coming home. 

' _Dios mio,'_ Hernan whispers, a shared breath between their mouths, and Kirk lights up, presses back in with fervour, catches at Hernan's lips with his tongue and his teeth, licking into Hernan’s mouth as he fucks himself even harder onto Hernan, riding him wildly.

'Hernan, I can't-' Kirk pants his words between kisses. 'I can't wait, I want-' He thrusts his head back again as Hernan's cock catches something inside him, gasping out a shaky breath and squeezing his eyes closed. 

Hernan doesn't have the capacity for words anymore; all power is lost to him and he doesn't even care as one last effort to thrust up into Kirk has Kirk coming, and the walls of his hole tighten even further around Hernan as Kirk's come stripes across Hernan’s chest - enough that Hernan lets the build-up of overwhelming pressure crash over him, and he's following Kirk, coming inside him in waves.

He's not really aware of anything until he feels Kirk climb off him, feels the warm stickiness of come spill down onto his thighs, slick and thick where it leaks out of Kirk. He feels Kirk lean up over him and start to undo the ropes at his forearms, rubbing at the painful point where they bound him. He feels Kirk tug at the kryptonite chains around his neck, lift Hernan's head for him so that Kirk can slide the chains free and disappear with them, wiping Hernan down with something and leaving him alone for long enough that he starts to see the green tinge to his vision dissipate. 

He feels an ache in his arms, his shoulders, and from the bites in his neck and thigh, but he can also feel that ache start to dull, can feel outside sensation start to flow back into his body. The sounds, the smells of the room, and his sight in the darkness all start to sharpen, and he notices the moment that Kirk comes back in.

Kirk walks over to Hernan gracefully as Hernan rolls to his side and places a palm under his head to prop himself up on one elbow, turning slightly towards Kirk and not bothering to hide the naked expanse of his impressive body. His cockiness is returning at the onset of his powers but it's looser, freer somehow, after his nosedive into submission. 

Kirk, for his part, is working hard to hide his fear, but Hernan can see it, can smell it, can hear it, in all the ways Kirk's body is giving him away. 

'What are you afraid of, _mi alma_?' Hernan asks, voice measured. He beckons Kirk closer with a tilt of his chin.

'I'm not _afraid_ ,' Kirk says, eyes flashing. 'I was just going to make sure you're okay.'

'I'm good. I'm _excellent_.'

'You're not… you don't…' Kirk is looking over Hernan's shoulder, presumably at the ropes discarded there. 'It felt good?' he settles on asking at last.

'It helped,' Hernan replies. And because he doesn't want to waste any more time, he leans over and wraps his hand around Kirk's upper arm, drags him in close and pulls him down to lie beside him. 'Thank you.'

'You're… you're welcome, Hernan.'

'Next time, maybe we need to bind my hands more securely,' Hernan says, pulling Kirk right into his arms and turning him around to wrap him up. 'Behind my back, maybe.'

Hernan can hear Kirk's breath catch in his chest. 'Next time?'

Hernan nuzzles into the soft dark hair that falls around Kirk's shoulders. 'Mmm. Next time.' He presses a kiss to Kirk's temple. 'If you want.'

He feels Kirk's sigh leave him as he finally exhales. Feels his muscles loosen and his tension let go. 

'Yeah, yes,' Kirk whispers, turning his face up to Hernan and reaching a hand up to brush a lock of hair behind Hernan's ear. 'I'd like that '

Hernan lets his eyes close. Let's the world fade away around him. He'll have to go back out there later. He'll need to face consequences; make new, equally horrible decisions; hate the space the world has carved out for him, again and again. 

But here, with Kirk, his soul can rest and be held safe. He can carve out his own piece of freedom. 

And that can be enough. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Check out the collection on tumblr [superbatreversebang](https://superbatreversebang.tumblr.com/) So much great content!
> 
> And check out SDS' tumblr here [sdeeys](https://sdeeys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And mine here [darter-blue](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darter-blue)
> 
> Drop a comment - I love to hear from you! Even if its just to squee, I promise I love it all ❤


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